Stillness of Grief
by Liek
Summary: Young Estel finds that sometimes help does not come and that even adults can not always be strong.
1. Prologue

_**Stillness of Grief** _

_(disclaimer: I do not own these characters) _

_Prologue_

There was something very strange about the elf.  
He just sat there, day after day, at the exact same spot, staring out of the window, as if he had been carved out of stone.

In the five years Estel had lived with Elrond of Rivendell he had never seen the stone elf move, nor heard him speak. The elf had always been there, in front of the window, staring into the void.  
The only visible thing that indicated that he was still alive was the little movement of his chest.

Every day his father would sit next to the stone elf and talk to him. Tell him about the things he had done and the people he had healed. Estel guessed there was no one in Rivendell who knew as much about Elrond as the motionless elf.

Yet the elf never gave any sign that he listened.  
Nor did he seem to notice the fact that Elrond forced food down his throat every single day.  
The stone elf kept staring out of the window, without blinking, as if he was waiting for something.

Something that never seemed to come.


	2. Chapter 1

_Chapter 1_

"Who is he?" Estel asked Glorfindel one day. "Who is the stone-elf?"The golden-haired elf had looked sadly at the motionless elf beside the window and sadly shook his head.  
"He once was one of the finest warriors of Imladris. A light in the darkness, a bright star that lit up the world around him." Glorfindel shook his head once more. "He was the best swordfighter Middle earth has ever seen." Glorfindel's voice died away.  
"What happened?" Estel asked, breathless.  
The elf was silent for a while, searching for the words.  
"He could notsave the one he needed to save most. He was the best swordfighter in all of Middle Earth, but that he needed was an arrow. Just one arrow he didn't have."

Glorfindel stared at the elf, and for a moment it seemed like the elven lord too was carved out of stone.  
When he spoke again his voice was barely audible.  
"Sometimes I think it would be mercy just to let him go. But Elrond insists on keeping him here, he insists that it is possible to move on. He knows best of course, but…" He shook his head one last time. "Don't get attached to him, Estel; that elf is leaving. He would have left with his brother years ago, if Elrond had let him go."

* * *

The moment Estel had learned that the stone-elf had once been a swordmaster that impressed even Glorfindel, the motionless elf became one of his greatest interests.  
The young boy spent more and more time in the same room as the stone elf.

He stared at the elf, noticing the muscles of his arms, once used to wield the sword. He noticed the warrior braids hidden in the elf's hair, and in the mind of the youngster stories started to form.

In Estel's mind "The one the stone-elf had needed to save most" became a beautiful lady, trapped in a dark castle guarded by a dozen dragons. The stone-elf had fought them all, and had very nearly won, except for the fact that the last dragon had flown away, carrying the girl away.

On other days the stone-elf had needed to save a fairy with great magical powers that was threatened by an evil wizard. The stone-elf had fought and fought the wizard, but the sorcerer had placed an enchantment over himself that made sure his armour could not be penetrated by anything than an arrow.  
The arrow the stone-elf did not have.

The greatness of the elven warrior grew with each passing day as Estel watched him, his achievements growing ever more amazing.

Soon the stone-elf became a vala in disguise on a secret mission to protect Imladris, and Estel the Brave mustered the courage to climb onto his lap and see the vala's eyes.

And then he nearly died of fright.

* * *

The moment the head of Estel had blocked his view of the window everything about the stone-elf changed. The blood was drained out of his face, and he seemed to be choking. He reached his hands out the window, as if he was a drowning man searching for something he could hold.

"I can't see!" he screamed, a voice raw from lack of use. "He might come back and I can't see! He could think I abandoned him! GET OFF ME! GET OFF! LET ME SEE!"

But in his panic the stone-elf moved so much that Estel was unable to do as he was told, and instead he just clung more tightly to the elf, in order to not fall off.

The young human spent several moments of utmost terror like this, and then he was suddenly in Elrond's arms, who put him on the ground again as fast as he could, all attention now at the terrified stone-elf.

"Elladan!" he spoke, softly but commanding. "Elladan, you will stop this and you will listen to me."  
"HE COULD COME BACK AND I COULD NOT SEE HIM! HE WILL THINK I ABANDONNED HIM! HE.."  
"Elladan!" Elrond repeated, trying to put his arms around the elf.  
"ELROHIR! ELROHIR!" It was as if the stone-elf was using his voice as a shield against Elrond's, as if he screamed so he did not have to hear.  
Estel expected his father would glare at him now, but instead Elrond kneeled, putting his arms around the stone-elf as much as the shaking elf allowed him, stroking the elf's hair where he could.  
"Elladan…"  
"ELROHIR! I'M HERE! I WOULD NOT ABBANDON YOU! NEVER! ELROHIR! ELROHIR COME BACK! COME BACK! _COME BACK!"_ The stone-elf was sobbing now.

"Elladan, Elrohir is not coming back, son." Estel could see the pain it took his father to speak those words. "He is dead, little one. He won't come."

The stone-elf stopped shouting, and for a few moments he stared at Estel's father, the pain that was visible in the elf's eyes cut a hole in Estel's heart.  
"Elrohir…" he spoke once more, but softly this time, with a broken voice.

It was the saddest thing Estel had ever heard.

"Ro is dead, Dan… but you are still here. You can make it, I know you can, please son, listen to me, you are stronger than this."

But Estel could see that Elrond's words didn't reach the stone-elf. He had studied him long enough to know that the window had caught his attention again, and Estel knew with certainty that the elf was far away.

It was like Glorfindel had said: The elf was leaving. In a way he was already gone.


	3. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

AN: This chapter requires some knowledge of the Valar to fully understand…for those who have not read Silm .. here is a link to figure out who is who

http/valarguild. org /varda/ Tolkien / encyc / valar .html

thanks Nin!

And thanks to everyone who reviewed..

_Chapter 2_

He was supposed to know everything that happened and everything that would ever happen, but somehow he was at loss here. It was not that he didn't know what happened, for he did, nor that he didn't know what would happen after this, for that was easy to guess.  
It was just that he was absolutely certain none of this was Illuvatar's plan.

He looked back at the elf and sighed. For as long as the elf had been in his halls, he had never seen him blink even once.

The elf just sat there, motionless as if he was carved out of stone, ever staring back to Middle Earth. He did not react to the efforts they made to heal his soul, in fact he did not react to anything at all.  
Not even Estë had been able to heal his wounds, none of Irmo's visions of beauty seemed to reach him, and his grief was so deep that even Nienna could not understand it completely.  
And none of that was for lack of trying.

Námo, Mandos, keeper of the houses of the death, the summoner of the spirits of the slain just sat and stared at the elf, wondering what to do next. There were days when he wished he had had an easier job, when he envied Tulkas or Oromë, when he wished he could just run around and kill things.

He looked up when someone entered, knowing who it was but still not expecting it: her being here now could not be Illuvatar's plan either.  
"Are you not weaving, my love?" he asked her, though it was obvious that she wasn't.  
His wife didn't answer him, but smiled sadly instead.

"Aren't you supposed to 'weave all things that have ever been in time into your storied webs' at this time of day?" He tried to get her to answer, not caring that he already knew what she would say. If they stopped answering every time the other knew the answer already, he and Vaire would never have a conversation again.

"What about the future of Middle earth? I love your webs of the future…" he tried again.  
"There is no future of Middle Earth." she spoke and pressed a half finished tapestry into his hands. "Just look at it! I am not weaving more of this!"

Námo let his eyes move over the tapestry and he saw what his wife had meant.

All patterns seemed to have come to an end and darkness had been woven into them, more and more, until finally, at the end of the tapestry, there was nothing but black.  
"What does this mean? Sauron will rule the world? How did this happen?" He had known things were not going the way they had planned it lately, but this was… unexpected.

Vaire pointed at one of the patterns. "It all started here. This pattern ended. Then these patterns, his brother and father I believe, followed him in his death. And when they did, this one…" she pointed at a shorter line Mandos recognised as human, "was left alone, and therefore not strong enough to defeat this threat of darkness, and that is when it all started to fall apart."

"This pattern you speak about… who is it?" Námo asked, though he could guess.  
"This one? Aragorn he is called. He who should be king."  
"No, love, this one." He pointed at the first pattern they had spoken about, the one where it had all started.

But he knew the answer already, it was clear, there was no other possibility. There was only one elf in his Halls that did not belong there, whose presence could trigger eternal darkness.

Elrohir Elrondion.

* * *

The outburst of the stone-elf had brought a change to Imladris and it's inhabitants. It seemed an old wound was ripped open and the elves moved around without their usual grace.  
Though elves were unfamiliar with the subject it seemed to Estel that the household was ill, its glow seemed to have dimmed, its strength seemed to fail.

The one who seemed affected by it most was Estel's adoptive father, Elrond himself. The elven lord spent more and more time in the room with the stone-elf, talking to him, trying to get some reaction out of him without result.  
He seemed to have forgotten that he had other people to talk to, that he had promised Estel a bedtime story, that the line of people that wanted to talk to him about important things was ever growing.

Glorfindel tried to talk to him, and so did Estel's mother, but Elrond didn't listen.  
Like the stone-elf had to be able to look out of the window, it seemed Elrond now had to keep the elf in sight.

The more Estel could see of the illness that seemed to have taken over his home, the more horrible he felt. He felt responsible for everything that had happened as it was his fault that he had triggered the stone-elf into shouting and with it, his father into being hurt.

There was another reason Estel felt bad, as with the first movement of the stoned-elf he had lost his great protector. He knew now that the elf was not a Vala that had been assigned to protect Imladris, nor a great warrior that could find a dozen dragons and survive.

In fact Estel had not ever seen someone more vulnerable, more fragile than the stone-elf in his moment of panic.

But if the elf was not assigned to protect them, then who would? What if orcs, the orcs that had hunted Estel in his dreams for so long, what if those orcs would come here to kill Ada Elrond and Nana the way they had killed Ada Arathorn?

The sadness that had spread through Imladris had infected even its youngest member. It brought back dreams, nightmares of loss, it opened wounds of the hearth that had never really healed, and the power of Vilya that had ever protected him weakened as its owner.

Soon other members of the household could be spotted staring out of the window, motionless for a few moments, searching for something, or someone who did not come.

But none of those searching eyes saw what they should have seen.  
None of them spotted the orcs that came ever closer.

* * *


	4. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

Estel woke up still trembling from the events in his dreams. There had been orcs everywhere, closing in on Imladris from all directions, invading the forest, crossing the rivers, and no one had been there to stop them. No one had seen them coming.

It was not the first time the smallest member of Elrond's household had been plagued with dreams of orcs, as the vile beasts had come back often in the young boys nightmares, and had slain his father time and time again. Those dreams had had the young boy crying for many times, even made him scared to sleep at some point in his life, but somehow none of those dreams had felt as awful as this one had felt.

None of those dreams had felt as much as a warning.

Though he feared the darkness the young child climbed out of his bed, he feared his dreams more at the moment and he would not go back to sleep until he had seen with his own eyes all was alright. That he was well protected.  
His mother was still sleeping when he snuck past her. By the look on her face he could see she had a good dream, and he was careful not to wake her.  
His mother did not have good dreams very often, her dreams were worse that his, and almost always about Ada Arathorn, he knew, for she screamed his name in her sleep, begging him not to leave her.

The hall was empty when he reached it, empty and cold in a way it had never been before, and there were no elves laughing or whispering in the corners he could not see. It was deserted.

Estel was shivering again, not only from the cold but also from the feeling of dread that grew in him.  
It had never been this dark in the house of Elrond. The elves had lit up the walls with their gentle light; they had driven the shadows away with their laughter and singing voices.  
Now it was so dark he could not even see his own hands.

When a soft blue light lit up the room, Estel turned toward it in relief, expecting to see an elf that had just entered. But then another light appeared, and another, and another, and Estel could see that it were not elves that shone, but every single decorative sword on the walls that were warning him:

Orcs.  
Orcs are near.

* * *

It did not take the boy long to find his father, as lord Elrond was where he had always been ever since Estel had accidentally hurt the stone elf; never far from the motionless elf's side.

Estel stormed in, not seeing anything other than his father's face, incredibly relieved that Ada Elrond was still alive.  
"Ada!" he yelled and jumped into his father's arms.

The Elf lord barely took the time to catch him before he placed the young human back onto the ground. "Not now, Estel." His voice sounded strange, the words did not come out entirely right and he spoke so softly.  
"But.."  
"Please… Estel… not now, sweetheart." His hand brushed lightly over Estel's dark hair. "Tonight I have no time for hope, young one." Estel did not think he had ever heard his father speak in a sadder or softer tone. It was as if all the grief of the world was making it impossible for his father to speak. "My son is dying."

"But… Ada… Orcs!"

"Estel!" the young human had not noticed Glorfindel until he spoke "Just go back into your room and ask your mother to sing you a song, little one. The nightmares will go away when she does." The blond elf seemed to forget about the child right after he had spoken and placed his hand on the shoulder of his old friend. "Perhaps it is better to just let Elladan go, Elrond. You know he shall never be happy here. Don't force him into a life he does not want, my friend."

But Elrond did not seem to hear anything anymore, and held the stone elf, as if he was afraid the motionless figure would lift off any moment and disappear.

Estel stood in the room, lost and forgotten.

Apart from his father, Glorfindel and the stone-elf there were other elves in the room, most of them Estel recognized as warriors or healers.  
None of them seemed to have eyes for anything other than Elrond or the stone elf, none of them seemed to even notice him.

They all had the same kind of worried, sad expression on their faces that the young boy recognized from when he had just come to live in Imladris, when his mother had been wounded still and no one had been certain she would live.  
"Excuse me…" he said softly, not daring to speak up in the sad silence of the room. No one seemed to hear him. He spoke again louder now. "Excuse me, but there are orcs! Orcs are coming!"

One of the healers looked up from his work. "Go away, boy!"  
"But- ORCS! PLEASE…"  
The healer glared at him "GO! Lord Elrond has no time for your nightmares right now. And how dare you remind him of orcs on a time like this! His _son_ is dying."

Estel glanced at his father, expecting Elrond to look up and glare at the healer, to tell the elf that Estel was his son too. But his father didn't move, he had eyes for nothing but the pale stone elf, who now lay into his chair with closed eyes.

And suddenly Estel did not want to be in the room anymore. It was filled with all the people that should have protected him from all harm; his father, Glorfindel, the warriors, the healers, the stone elf, who should have been a Vala.

How could he not be a Vala? How could he not get up right now and protect Imladris? How could he just… just… sit in a chair and… _die_…now that Estel needed a guardian more that anything?  
Why couldn't he just be a Vala?

The young boy suddenly felt the need to kick the elf, to scratch him, hurt him in every way possible. How dared he be nothing but a dying elf?  
How dared he betray Estel's hope like this?

He wanted to bite, hurt something, someone, his father, Glorfindel… until they listened, until they heard what he had to say.  
He wanted to scream until he had no voice left; until someone came to help him, until the Valar sent their warriors.

Instead he turned and left, feeling more alone than ever before.

* * *

Thanks to Niniel for editing,.. and evryone who reviewed for doing so.

Liek


	5. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

The boy walked through the dark halls with hanging shoulders and tears in his eyes. While he walked he kept a hand on the walls at all time, not only to find his way in the darkness but also to ensure himself that the walls at least had not abandoned him; that they were still standing high and tall between him and the approaching danger.

The small human tracked his way back into the hall were the swords were still shining, more brightly now than they had ever done before. He stopped moving.  
Here it was, the proof that he had not been dreaming, the proof that he was right.  
Orcs were coming to Imladris and he, Estel was the only one that knew.

He thought of Ada Arathorn, who had been killed by orcs, and Ada Elrond who had looked so tired and beaten, not at all as if he was able to fight today.  
He thought of Glorfindel and the warriors, who could fight but didn't listen, and of the stone elf who was said to be the best swordfighter Imladris had ever seen, but who had not moved from his post at the window for as long as Estel had lived there.

And then he thought of his Nana, the only other person who could protect him, who would maybe listen to him, but she was sleeping in their room, for once dreaming a good dream, and he knew he could not wake her to tell her orcs were coming, for it would be the meanest thing he had ever done.

When he looked at the swords again he knew none of the people he had thought about would be able to protect him today, as they all seemed somehow smaller, weaker than he was.  
He was the only one that could move, he was the only one that knew orcs were coming, and so he was the only one that could protect them.  
He knew what he had to do.

His eyes fell back onto the swords on the walls again, too high for him to reach. But if he were to become the protector of Imladris today, if he were to save Ada Elrond from the orcs, he would need a sword.  
A good sword, not too long, not made for an elven adult. His eyes fell on the only sword in the Hall that was not glowing, a sword Estel knew that had belonged to some important person that had cut off Sauron's finger with it.

It was broken, and the piece with the hilt did not have a point, but otherwise it was perfect, it was exactly long enough for a boy his age, and the blade was still sharp.  
The hilt fit Estel's hand perfectly, almost as if it belonged to him, and with the sword in his hand Estel felt that he was doing the right thing. He was supposed to do this. He was destined to fight evil.  
With the blade in his hand the boy forgot his fears. He would not let the orcs hurt the people he cared about; they would not set a foot in Imladris.

He, Estel, son of Elrond, would meet them head on.

* * *

It was hard to stay brave in the dark forest, with branches in strange shapes Estel had never seen before, and sounds he could not place, but he did his best.

The young boy tried to remember the days when he had been in this forest with Glorfindel, Ada Elrond or his Nana, when the forest had seemed golden and friendly in the sunlight, and it had felt like an extended home.  
He had to constantly remind himself that these trees were not scary, that they were friends of the elves, and that they would never hurt him.  
He had no elven hearing, he could not hear their voices, yet he knew orcs had entered here.

Twigs were broken, the trees were scared, heavy boots had stamped on the forest-floor.  
If he listened to the ground he cold still hear the echoes of their feet.

The orcs were closer to Rivendell than he had expected, yet they still had to cross the ravine that separated Imladris from the rest of the mountains. It was narrow but deep, with a river running at the bottom that was barely visible even at the best of times.

Estel did not know how the elves had ever managed to build a bridge across it, he just knew they had done it, and had done it only once.

Determined to reach that bridge before the orcs did, young Estel forgot all his fear of the dark forest, and started running.

* * *

He shifted restlessly as he did not like this place, he did not like this place at all. The smell of elves was strongly in the air, and he was certain the roots of the trees tried to trip him as he went.  
He feared the dark branches above him as each of them could hold an archer, a swordsman, a hidden dagger.  
He could almost feel the magic of this place infecting him.

There were many tales about this place, passed by orc to orc when they called for horror-stories by the fire in the midst of the night.  
These woods were said to be treacherous: orcs could walk in, and never walk out again.  
It was said that a group of orcs could spend an eternity trying to find this valley, and that they would eat each other long before they would see a sign of their prey.

But those stories were standard for almost every elf-infested place. The real horror-stories spoke of the protectors of this valley.  
There was a tale of a golden-haired rider that shone with a terrible light, burning the eyes of all that tried to fight him.  
Another spoke of a dark-haired elf-lord who could command the rivers to fight on the side of the elves, and who let the waters swallow all that came near.

There was also a tale of an elf-warrior that could split himself in two: One moment orcs had been fighting him, and the next he had appeared behind them as well, thus trapping the orc between the two versions of himself.

Yes, he had reason to fear this place, even if they had found the valley easily and the river had proved no problem.  
The orc feared that when they would finally meet resistance it would be worse that all that he had feared.

"Halt!" a voice commanded them from across the bridge, it's owner invisible by the darkness and the mists. "You shall not enter these lands!"

The orcs swore beneath his breath, and he wondered for a few short moments if his commander would notice if he just snuck away now and lived on in the mountains forever, far away from all elven warriors.

But then a gentle breeze lifted some of the mists, revealing the one who had challenged them.  
The orc chuckled at his own fear and licked his lips.

The moment he had seen the small human boy with the broken sword, he had known that the only real danger was to die of laughter.

* * *


	6. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5_

Estel watched as the first orcs set foot on the bridge, and tried to remember the lessons Glorfindel had given him. There had been a certain movement he had learned that should help him fight a large amount of opponents, but he could not remember what it was.

The orcs were approaching; he could see the grins on their ugly faces. They knew he could not remember his moves, Estel was sure of that. They were laughing at him.

The boy shook his head.  
No. He must not let himself be distracted by their taunting, that much he remembered. He must keep his eyes on their swords and fight them, one blow at the time.  
He could do this; he had practiced.

The orcs came ever closer, the wind carried their smell as a warning ahead of them. He could see the bloodstains of previous victims on their blades.

The small boy did his best not to shiver.

When the first orcs lifted his blade, Estel had to force himself to remember his Nana, sleeping in their room, his Ada Elrond, so hurt already. He had to remember that he was the only thing that stood between them and the orcs, otherwise he would have turned and run.  
Instead, he lifted his blade, and waited.

* * *

The first orc had died and Estel was still standing, but he had no time to feel pride or happiness about it, as this battle was not yet over.

After they had seen the first of them die the orcs were no longer grinning, as they did not find the child with weapons so funny anymore once he proved he was somewhat of a threat. Instead they approached him more carefully, with several orcs at the time, and Estel was quickly losing ground.

He knew that the moment the orcs had pushed him back far enough he would be lost. The bridge was narrow, and the beasts could not move past him as long as he did not allow it, nor could they approach with too many at the time, but once they had pushed him off it that advantage would be gone.

The orc he was fighting now was twice his size and it's blade was longer that Estel's arm. It was hard to remember that moving backwards would kill him in the end when that blade was so close. The child tried as best as he could to stand his ground.

He did his very, very best.  
But not even that was good enough, and before long the boy stumbled over the last tile of the bridge, while the orcs were closing in on him.  
He was trapped.

* * *

He had tried to be brave like the elves in the stories, but maybe because he was human, or maybe because he was only seven and a half years old he had found he could not.

Tears slid down his cheeks and his throat was hoarse from screaming. His back was bleeding, he could feel the blood trickle down it; the places were the whips had touched him still burning.  
Though he could feel the ropes he was tied with dig themselves deeper into his flesh every time he moved he could not stop shivering.

He did not feel brave anymore, or strong, just scared, very very scared.

"Nana..." he whispered softly, longing for her arms around him, for her to tell her that it was only a bad dream; that it was all over now.

But the only ones there were orcs that insisted on hurting him; that let the whips rain down on his back like fire.  
His lip was too hurt for him to bite it any longer, and for a moment he could not breathe through the blood in his mouth.  
He struggled to clear his airway, accidentally breathed some of his own blood, and cried when painful coughs ripped his back to pieces.

That was the moment the young boy broke.

"NANA! ADA! HELP! HELP ME! _PLEASE_!"

* * *

The elf stumbled through the forest, following the path leading through it, moving as fast as he could, for he had great need to reach Imladris. If he had trusted his body he would have moved through the trees, but wounds were still bleeding from his last meeting with orcs and he would not risk a fall so close to his destination.

More than his body his spirit yearned for Imladris, for the peace and rest that could be found there, but most of all for the elves he had not seen in such a long time.

It had been too long since he had walked this path, and it had changed in his absence. Though the forest still embraced him as a long lost son, he could feel a darkness that had not been there before. For some reason the wind had brought the stench of orcs with it.

But that could not be. Not here, not Imladris, it was supposed to be well protected.

The elf moved on, more careful now, and in spite of his injuries he slipped the bow off his back and strung it. The deep wound in his chest would make it painful to draw, but it was to be preferred over dying, that at least was certain.

* * *


	7. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6_

The little boy had given up all screaming.

He had given up trying to call for help, he had given up on crying for every effort of making a sound was too much for him, and help did not come anyway.  
He just lay there waiting while they beat him, until the orcs would give up their torture or death would release him from his pain.

* * *

Hidden between the trees the elf watched the orcs on the other side of the bridge. He cursed them for being there, for destroying the peace of this sanctuary and standing between him and his home.  
He put a hand on the wound on his chest and shivered. They had told him he was not fully healed yet, not of body, not of mind. But he had not expected to feel this fear.

The group of orcs wasn't even that big.

He had always been the first to charge orcs, who laughed at the face of danger, but now he was shivering at the sight of merely thirty orcs. If anyone had told him that he, an elf, would be afraid of dying one day he would have laughed them in the face, but he was. Having a sword imbedded in his chest had changed him more than he thought.

Silently, while watching the orcs, he made a deal with himself. He would sneak past these orcs now even though they had invaded his lands, he would not fight them, he would give in to his fears. But this would be the only time he did.

It disturbed him that _he_, who had been one of Imladris main protectors could make a decision like this so easily, but more than that he felt relieved. It was as if a heavy stone was lifted off of his heart when he had decided he needed not be brave.

That was when he spotted the child.

* * *

There was something happening at the edge of the orc-camp, Estel could tell. There had been shouts first, and orcs running around. The blows on his back had become less frequent, and the orcs no longer seemed to enjoy the torturing as much as they had done before.

They kept glancing over their backs, as if they were nervous, or maybe even scared.

Estel stopped shivering. The restless shifting of the orcs, the screams of pain that weren't his had brought something back that seemed to have left him before: Hope.

And with hope came strength and willpower, and not long after that the young boy found his voice.

"_HELP_! I'M HERE! HELP ME!"

He had the chance to scream three times before the orc-club connected with his head and the world went black.

* * *

"Wake up, little one."

It was a soft voice that penetrated the darkness, a voice Estel did not recognize though it was definitely an elf speaking.  
"Wake up, small one... I want to turn you onto your stomach, but I need to know if you might have broken something first. Please wake up."

Estel slowly opened his eyes.

"That is it." The voice spoke. "Very well done."

Estel blinked and slowly his mind started to process the things happening around him. He could see there were dead orcs lying all around him, mostly with arrows imbedded in their chests.  
"You don't need to worry about them, young one. None of them will harm you." Estel looked up to the one that had spoken, and somewhere, from deep down he found the strength to smile at his saviour.

He recognized his face; he had seen it many times before though he had never seen it smile.  
It was his Valar, his stone elf, who had come to save him after all.

* * *

Every time the stone elf turned his back on the boy, Estel's eyes were on his back following him around but when the elfturned and smiled the boy quickly looked away, as if he had not been looking at all.

It was strange to see the motionless elf moving around like this, to see the elf that had always been fed by his father create a small fire, and cook his own meal, to feel the elf that had been unable to take care of himself clean the wounds on his back.

"I think you will be alright, little one." The elf said, after he had finished. "Your wounds will heal." Though the boy was sure his Ada could have done it faster his wounds felt much better now, and the touch of the stone-elf's shirt that the elf had wrapped around his shoulders did not hurt as much anymore.

"What about those?" The boy said, and he pointed at the large wounds on the elf's chest and back, wounds that had been visible the moment the elf had pulled off his shirt to give Estel its warmth.

The boy remembered his father had said the stone elf was dying, and the wounds looked that bad, almost as if a sword had been stuck right trough his heart.

"Those?" the elf answered, nodding at his wounds. He shook his head. "Those are old wounds. They might even be older than you." he added with a smile and then he helped himself to a drink, as if he told all there was to know about him, and discussion was now over,

"Why have they not healed then?" Estel would not be distracted. He knew too much about elves and healing to not know that elven-wounds did not stay visible and definitely not bleeding for years. Especially not longer than he had lived.

'I have not had the time to heal them yet, small friend. I was busy elsewhere." The elf sad with a smile, and though the boy did not understand what the stone elf had just told him, the boy could see the older one was not smiling with his eyes.  
"But…" the child protested, but the elf shook his head and the child could see on the elf's face he would not get anymore answers out of him.

"Enough about me." The elf decided. "Now about you. What is your name, little one? And what is a small human such as yourself doing out here all by yourself? Where is your mother?" The elf was smiling at him again as he took another sip from his drink.

"Nana is home." Estel pointed in the general direction of Imladris. "with Ada Elrond."

When Estel looked at the elf again, it seemed the stone elf had turned into stone again. His eyes were staring unblinkingly at Estel, the water-skin hung forgotten in his hand somewhere halfway to his mouth.

The small boy shifted restlessly, not knowing what to do.

But then the elf blinked, and shook his head lightly.

"I'm sorry, did you just say… I mean… did you…_Ada_ Elrond?"

* * *


	8. Chapter 7

_Chapter 7_

Elrond, Lord of Imladris, knew all was lost.

Though he still clutched the hand of his son with all his might, he knew that this time, this time he would not be able to keep him here.  
Through the hand he held almost tightly enough to break bones, the elvenlord felt the coldness of death taking over his son's body.

"No… Elladan, no…" He whispered, knowing his son would not hear him, knowing only a miracle could save them now. "Please, little one, don't give up. Don't leave me…" It felt as if his throat was ripped open by the words he spoke, as if he was bleeding from it, as if his words had been swords that had hurt him when they had come out.  
"Don't you leave me too."

But Elladan was not moved by his father's desperate pleading. He was as motionless as he had ever been, ever since he had brought his brother's broken body home so many years ago.

The image of his son standing on the doorway, his face pale and without expression, his clothes covered in blood was etched on Elrond's mind forever. At first he had though Elladan was wounded, but then his eyes had fallen on the limp form in his son's arms.  
While he had clutched his brother's body Elladan had spoken only three words in a voice that Elrond had never heard before, lifeless and beaten.

"Arathorn is dead."

He did not speak of Elrohir, not a single word, but when Elrond tried to get the body out of Elladan's hands he refused to let go, he refused to move and did not speak again.

Elrond later heard from one of the other warriors that his son had died protecting Arathorn's child, that his little Ro had sacrificed himself for an even smaller human boy; now last of Isildur's bloodline. And he had felt no other choice but to take the boy into his house, raise him, make sure the sacrifice of his beautiful child would not be in vain.

And he had had to wait. He had to wait until his eldest son had weakened himself so much by not eating and not sleeping that he could no longer put up much of a fight when his father finally forced the body of his twin out of his arms. He had had to rob his son of his brother, just to be able to hold his own dead son in his arms. Just to be able to give Elrohir a proper funeral.

Elladan had not moved again.

The elven lord had placed his only remaining son on a chair looking out of the window, so he would be able to see how they placed Elrohir's body on a small ship of the river Loudwater in the direction of the sea.

Elrond had seen how Dan had followed the ship with his eyes, until it could no longer be seen, and longer than that even. He had seen how Elladan's eyes had remained on the place he had last seen his brother, unblinkingly for minutes, for days, for years.

Elladan had not moved again.

"Please, Danny. Don't leave me… stay"

But Elrond knew all was lost.

* * *

Estel did not know what to say and so he just nodded.

He did not understand why the stone elf was so surprised. Of course Elrond was his Ada. Everyone knew that. And Estel was sure Ada had told the stone elf. After all, Ada had always told the stone elf everything.

"So, Elrond is your Ada." The stone elf still sounded as if he did not believe, as if his mind had trouble accepting the fact.  
Estel nodded again.  
"Alright... Well… in that case…" The stone elf said with a sigh, the tone of his voice suggested that he was expecting the boy to jump up and say 'fooled you!' any minute now. 'I think we have something in common. Elrond is my Ada too."  
"I know. You're Elladan." Estel said with a smile, proud that he had remembered such a difficult name.

It was as if Estel had spoken some magic words. The face of the stone elf lit up and a smile split his face nearly in two. It was as if something fell back into place, as if the stone elf had returned where he belonged.  
"No, you silly." He spoke, beaming. "I'm Elrohir."

Estel blushed. He had been sure he had remembered the name correctly and he did not understand why his mistake could make Elrohir so happy.

"I'm sorry." He whispered softly. "I thought Glorfindel called you 'Elladan' when you were still dying back home. "

* * *

The first few moments Elrohir felt he was unable to move, unable to think, unable to act. He felt as if the words the small boy had spoken were a second sword that had penetrated his body.

He had been so happy when the boy had called him 'Elladan.' It had been strange really. Before the 'accident with the orc-blade' he had always hated it if people could not even tell the difference between him and Dan. But now, now they had been separated this long, it had just felt as if he was home again.  
If people thought he was Dan, it could only mean Dan was close and Elrohir had been ready to dance.

But not anymore.

Dan was dying.

Suddenly he felt like he could not move fast enough.  
Dan was dying.  
Why was he still here? Why was he not trying to reach him, to safe him to pull him back?  
Why was he bounded by this little boy that claimed to be his brother too?

Dan was dying.

"Little one. " he could even hear himself how his voice had changed. "We have to go. Now. Can you walk?"

He did not want to walk. He did not want to carry the boy. He wanted to run, run as fast as he could, or faster than that, until he could close his arms around his brother, and tell him that Valinor was overrated, and it was best to just stay here.  
He did not wait for the boy's answer; he just lifted him carefully off the ground and started running.  
He did not notice the woods that he had played in as a child were welcoming him back.  
He did not stop and enjoy the first sight of his home in many years.

Dan was dying.

* * *


	9. Chapter 8

_Chapter 8_

Something had changed.  
There was something about the air that was warmer, something about the light that shone brighter than it had before.  
He knew the one who changed it.

He had been ready to leave, but something had changed. Something was tugging at his heart, begging him to stay.  
Something was coming.  
Something he had waited for, what his heart had longed for all these years.

He opened his eyes, not remembering when he had closed them.  
He opened his eyes and he saw what he had hoped for, so strongly that it was impossible for him to move. He opened his eyes and saw his dreams come true.

He looked around and he saw all those people surrounding him, looking at them with wet eyes, as if someone had just died, and he did not understand why they weren't singing and dancing.

"Ro" he spoke, to get their attention to the window, to let them see what he saw, while he tried to remember how to walk.  
The elves still stared at him, but that was not his problem, as soon as he remembered how to walk he would be out of here.  
"I'm going to meet Ro." He told them.

* * *

Elrond was devastated by the sound of joy in his eldest son's words.

He felt betrayed, for all the things he had wished for, the things he had begged for from the depths of his heart were washed away like they had meant nothing at all.  
All the persons he had cared about had left him so readily.

He knew there was more to it, and with his reason he could understand, yet there were times when his heart shouted louder, when he felt…

His parents had cared more about a stupid rock than they had cared about him.  
Elros could have chosen to remain elf, but he had abandoned him, left him without reason.

Celebrian could have stayed. He had healed her, she would have lived. But still she had chosen to leave. He had seen the relief in her eyes when her ship had sailed, and he had hated her for that.  
She could have at least tried to stay with him, she could have fought her evil dreams, he could have helped her, he had known how, but she had chosen the easy way.

Ro had died for another man's son, not thinking once about his own father, and Elladan… Elladan, his strong son, raised to be a fighter, had just given up and given in.

Who was next?  
Arwen?  
Who more did he have to lose?

"My lord Elrond?" a voice interrupted his trail of thought. "My lord Elrond, I am sorry to disturb you, sir. But Estel… and… and…"The elf did not seem to find his words. "Your son, my lord. Badly wounded."

* * *

He stood in the middle of the Hall not knowing where to go next. The elf that had met them had told him he would get his father, that he would just have to wait a few seconds, that all would be alright soon; he just had to wait a little bit. And then he had just disappeared, too fast for Elrohir to follow.

He had never felt this lost in Imladris' main Hall before, nor as unwelcome. The few elves that were there were staring at him, at his face, at the small child in his arms, but mostly at the wound in his chest and its mirror on his back. None of the elves spoke a single word.

He wished he had not given his shirt to the wounded child, though he knew he had had no other choice. He wished he could hide his wounds from all that stared at him. Before he had arrived here he had not realised how bad the wounds must look, how much he had changed and he could not bear the thought that soon Elladan would stare at him the same way.

"Little one, I am going to put you down for a minute." He whispered softly to the boy in his arms, as he felt he could not speak when everyone was staring at him like this.  
While the boy stood on his own two feet for a minute Elrohir pulled a dirty cloak out of his backpack and wrapped it around his body as well as he could.

Though the dirt of the cloak burned in his wounds he felt better now he had something to shield him from the glares.

As an afterthought he pulled the hood over his face as well, before picking the boy back up. The elves around him still stared, but Elrohir didn't mind it all that much now that his wounds were hidden. It was as if his cloak would protect him from facing how much he had changed.

"My Lord…? My Lord Elrohir?"

It took a while before he realized the elf was speaking to him.

"Lord Elrond is ready to see you now. This way."

* * *

Elladan heard his footsteps coming closer and he closed his eyes to hear them better. He smiled to hear that Elrohir still walked the same way, even after all these years away from here, he still had the bounce in his steps that no-one else had.

He was coming closer, ever closer, he would be here soon…

The footsteps stopped, and Elladan opened his eyes once more, holding his breath.

The door opened…

* * *

_TBC.._ (soon)

_Liek _


	10. Chapter 9

_Chapter 9_

The first few moments Elrond saw nothing but the pale wounded boy in the stranger's arms, and pain shot through his heart. Somewhere in his soul he had always feared that this would happen, that everyone close to him was doomed to die an early dead.

He did not notice that Elladan ripped his hands out of his death grip, he did not notice the soft but steady rise and fall of Estel's chest, and he did not notice anything about the stranger in the dirty cloak. He just knew, with certainty, that all was lost.

"RO!" His eldest son had now gone completely insane. He was beaming at the stranger, waving, jumping, dancing on the spot. "Ro… I missed you… I missed you so..."

Elrond turned to the stranger to apologize for his son's behaviour, to explain that it was not really Dan's fault that he was like this… only to find that the stranger was no longer in the place he had occupied only seconds before.

"DAN!"

Elrond turned and saw two versions of the same elf, equally shining, equally beaming, clinging to each other as if they would never let go.

"Ro?" Elrond hesitated. "Ro…Is that really… is it…" His voice failed, he was shivering so badly as he knew what he saw, but did not dare to believe.

"My Ro.." He whispered as Elrohir reached out one arm and pulled his father into the embrace as well. "My little Ro." He repeated the words, touching his son's hair, his face, his arms. "My Ro…"He said, still shivering "I have my Ro back.."

He turned around and looked at his other son, noticing the colour on his cheek and the laughter in his eyes. "And my Dan... I have my Dan back too.." He spoke, sobbing, trying to hug both of his sons at the same time.

"You are all squeezing me to death, you know." A small voice said from beneath the pile of elves.

* * *

From the moment the stone-elf had picked him up from the ground, Estel had seen in his eyes that he should not speak. Something had changed in the elf the minute he had asked Estel if he could walk; something had been different. Estel had known the elf had retreated into himself again, and he stayed quiet in his arms, knowing that he was lucky the elf was bringing him along at all. 

He had not spoken when the stone elf had run through the gates of Imladris, nor when he had carried him up the stairs.

He had been surprised to see that the scene in the stone-elf's room had not changed at all. That there was another stone elf who still sat in the chair, though he was no longer looking out of the window.

But even that he could not comment on, as only seconds after he had realised there were two stone-elves, he had been trapped between them.

He did not speak up even then for he knew with certainty that this was what the stone elf had waited for, staring out of the window for as long as Estel had been in this house, and he did not dare interrupt.

Not until after Ada Elrond had joined too, looking happier than Estel had ever seen him, and the three elves' arms pressing on his wounded back were hurting him too much.

* * *

Elrond looked down and saw the small child, trapped between Elrohir and Elladan, and he quickly got him out, transferring him to his own arms instead. 

"Estel." He said softly. "My Estel… I want you to meet your brothers, little one. This one is Ro…"  
"We have met" Elrohir said with a smile.  
"He freed me from orcs and healed me." Estel added.  
Elrond chose not to have heard just yet.  
"And this is Dan."  
"I believe we have met as well" Elladan said. "You do look familiar."

"And this is Estel Elrondion, both of you. I trust that you will treat him well."

* * *

Time passed as the sun rose and fell again. 

It was way past Estel's bedtime, but no-one seemed to notice he was not sleeping, as they all were gathered in the healing ward, occupying several beds with his Nana safely next to the his.

Estel was sure it was the most cheerful day the healing ward had ever seen, as they had had parties celebrating the twins' return and the 'Saving of Imladris by the Mighty Estel (with a little help of an insignificant passer-by who was not really needed anyway)' as Elrohir had named their meeting.

The child looked at the twins. Ro was lying on the bed, his feet on the pillow and his head on the foot, Dan not far away, while Elrond was now checking the wounds he had been too late to heal all those years ago. The twins were laughing at some tale Glorfindel was telling them, and blond elf sitting opposite from them was smiling too.

It seemed to Estel that the coming of Elrohir had changed Imladris. It was as if the house itself had healed, for it was brighter, easier and somehow stronger now than it had been before.

It was hard to fear orcs if people could still laugh like this in a healing ward.

He would sleep without nightmares now.

* * *

"Not that I am not pleased, Elrohir…" Glorfindel spoke, sounding more serious now than he had before. "But I happen to know a bit about being reborn and well… technically… you are not supposed to be here. That is.. I don't see just _how _you got here…"

Elrohir swallowed. He had feared having to tell this tale, but he had known he would have to eventually, and he had practiced it inside his head.

"Technically, no." He acknowledged. "But… as it seemed I am a unique case.  
Or actually… _we_ are a unique case."  
Elrohir nodded at Elladan, who still hadn't stopped beaming at his brother. Both of them smiled. "Such a unique case, in fact, that the Valar didn't really knew what to do with me, or us. You see… Mandos' Halls are created to heal of all sorrow, but I could not. It seems I kept staring out into the distance, back to Middle Earth, not responding to anything they tried to do."

"In short" Elrohir added with a sad smile, "I must have been the most frustrating case they ever had."

He did not speak of the years of despair he had spent in Mandos' halls, or the pain he had felt day after day. He did not speak of the darkness his death could have caused, either. It was all in the past, and soon he would be able to laugh about it. He was sure about that.

He continued, careful to keep all memory of the loss he had felt out of his tale.

"Anyway.. I was a little.. stuck. Even the Valar concluded that I could not heal without my twin, and yet they had no way to send me back without healing me first according to their own rules. Add to that the problem that rebirth might not be a good idea either, as I would have to grow up again, get different parents and no longer be Elladan's twin. This state of affairs, Mandos concluded, would probably result in a second death very soon, as they expected I would be unable to shake the feeling of constant loneliness.

Secondly: they could not place me back in my old body, as.. well.. it had a sword inbedded in it's chest and the heart was not really beating anymore.

Of course, the easiest solution they had was to get Elladan to die soon, but that… erhm.. let's just say, caused other difficulties in the planning of the history of Middle Earth." He would not mention the darkness he had seen. The tapestry announcing the deaths of all he cared about and the destruction of Middle Earth. There was no need. It would never come to pass.

"Of course.. being such a charming and sweet person even if I'm dead and traumatized, the Valar pitied me." He spoke instead, hoping the joke would distract the others from asking for an explanation.

"And so, breaking almost every rule they had on the subject of rebirth, they restored my body, got the orc blade out , put my fea back into it, practically unhealed, and lend me a ship to Middle Earth. They wished me luck, told me to find my other half, and they ordered me not to come back without him"

A small grin played on Elrohir's lips. See? He would laugh about it soon enough.

"Or something of the sort," he continued.

"And so here I am. Not really healed, but alive at least, and back were I belong.  
And I just figured.. well, my father is the best healer Middle Earth has ever seen, and I am with Dan again, so I think I will be alright.  
Given time."

He would not tell them just yet how much he had changed. He did not tell them he was afraid to sleep, afraid to die, afraid to lose the people he loved… They would find that out soon enough.  
It was not necessary to let this knowledge dim the festive spirit, for he would make it eventually. He would heal.

As sure as the person sitting beside him was his brother, Elrohir knew all would be alright.

* * *

_The End._

Well...That was it. I hoped you liked it.

Liek


End file.
